


there’s something good out there, and maybe that’s you

by flippantninny



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippantninny/pseuds/flippantninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>short Bethyl drabbles and headcanons</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hands

He loved seeing her hand in his. Seeing the contrast, her light, pale skin, soft and smooth against his callused, rough, tanned hands. He loved everything about her hands, her long, skinny fingers, her clean nails. Everyone’s nails were filled with grime these days, but Beth’s where white, pure, cleaned every morning, cuticles pushed back and the tips cut short. Manageable, sensible enough for this world, and more than pretty enough for Daryl. Beth's nails could be black with grime and they'd still be more than pretty enough for Daryl. _It’s the little things you got to keep like they were before,_ she would say. He loved the way her fingers traced patterns on his chest before she fell asleep, and how before she woke up her hand would flatten against his chest, as though listening for his heartbeat, then curl into a ball before her eyes flicked open and immediately searched for his. He loved that her hands made him look so big and his hands made her look so small; that her hands could stretch across his chest and still so much of him would be untouched, but if he spread one hand across her back more was hidden by it than not.

He loved holding her hand.

He loved walking through Alexandria holding her hand as though telling the world she was his and he was hers and they don’t have to like it, but they can’t do shit about it.

And he loved holding her hand in private. When driving, when falling asleep, when walking down an empty alleyway at night. Holding her hand when no one else could see, holding her hand for the sake of holding hands. Holding her hand for no reason other than he loved the feeling of her hand in his.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone’s hand before he held Beth’s. And now he couldn’t imagine a day when her hand didn’t fall at some point into his.


	2. What happened doesn’t change anything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Daryl after the moonshine shack. Or Beth gets a hangover and Daryl says some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt on tumblr, write something based on the line "What happened doesn’t change anything."

Since when was the sun so bright? Beth could have sworn it wasn’t that bright yesterday. Sure, she’d heard about hangovers, seen Maggie wearing her sunglasses as she stumbled down the stairs after a long night out, complaining about the TV being on too loud or begging Beth to cook her some bacon (although why she always wanted bacon Beth had no idea, the thought of eating anything right now made her stomach turn), but this was ridiculous.

And it didn’t exactly make it any easier that they had no idea where they were going. It had seemed like a great idea the night before, but that shack was secure and safe and now it was gone, burned to the ground, nothing more than ashes and rubble. Beth knew that it had to be done, had to be burned down, but maybe they should have found a new place to stay first.

“Hold up, gotta take a piss.”

It didn’t help that Daryl seemed completely fine either. Wasn’t he at least as drunk as her? And at twice her age, surely he should be feeling the hangover worse than she was. That was how it worked, wasn’t it?

Beth dropped her backpack next to a rock, sitting down and burying her face into her hands, rubbing her eyes with her palms, while Daryl walked a few feet into the brush, his back to her, the familiar sound of a fly unzipping and liquid hitting the ground.

“You okay?”

She looked up, the redneck was still pissing into the trees, back to her but staring over his shoulder at her.

It was amazing how quickly modesty could be forgotten.

“Head kinda hurts, I’ll be okay,” she replied. Okay, it was a little worse than that. Every sound was like a siren, every light as bright as the sun. But she could survive.

“Drink some water,” he said, zipping up his fly and turning to face her, “come on,” he said walking back to the path they’d be following, “I wanna get outta these woods ‘fore it gets dark, gotta find some place to stay tonight, don’t wanna sleep out here with all them walkers about.”

Right, all the walkers, walkers who could smell the fire, their fire, attracted like moths to the flame.

“Greene, get up,” he said.

She groaned. her head back in her hands.

And then, before she’d even realized he’d moved, he was crouched in front of her, a hand on the back of her shoulder, a bottle of water in the other.

“Drink,” he said, as she looked up at him, “trust me, it’ll help. And if ya feel like pukin’, go ahead n’ puke, just gimme a heads up first, okay?”

She nodded, taking a long sip.

“Why don’t you have a hangover?” she asked, once she’d taken a few more sips, holding the bottle out for him to have some.

He shrugged, pushing the bottle back to her, “got a headache, ain’t my first hangover though, guess it gets easier the more ya get used to it. Keep drinkin’.”

She finished the water bottle in silence, his hand lingering on her shoulder, rubbing gently her upper back.

“Good to go?” he asked, when the bottle was empty.

She wasn’t really, she just wanted to hide in her old bedroom, curled up in a blanket with the lights off. Maybe Daryl could be there with her.

Just so he could keep his hand on her shoulder. Maybe his presence was a little more comforting than she’d care to admit.

But she forced herself up, grabbing her bag and following him along the path.

It was half an hour of silent walking later before Daryl finally spoke again.

"What happened don’t change anything, you know that, right?"

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Beth replied.

“Yesterday, the huggin’ n’ talkin’ n’ shit, don’t change nothin’.”

“Okay,” Beth said, relieved he was still in front of her, unable to see the smirk on her lips.

 _If that’s what you need to tell yourself, Daryl Dixon,_ she thought.

“You know, we’re still like we were, you’re still jus’ some seventeen year old-“

“-Eighteen year old-“ Beth interrupted.

“Eighteen year old I got stuck with.”

“Okay,” Beth said.

“Okay.” Daryl replied.

They continued in silence for a few more minutes, the path had grown less easy to follow, fallen trees and loose roots littering it.

“Just don’t be expectin’ us to have deep conversations or nothin’,” he said as he held out his hand to help her climb over a particularly large fallen tree.

“I don’t,” she replied, grabbing his hand and pushing herself over the tree.

“Just don’ expect us to be braidin’ each other’s hair and sharin’ secrets and talkin’ all the time,” he said, as she used his hand to steady herself and they began walking towards the next fallen tree.

“I’m not the one talkin’,” she said, laughing as he turned to glare at her.  
“You know what I mean,” he replied as she walked past him, stepping over a smaller tree, “we ain’t gonna be best buddies now or nothin’.”

“Never said we were,” Beth replied.

“Never gonna be anythin’ else either,” he added.

She stopped, turning to look at him.

“What else could we be?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“Nothin’,” he said, “you’re Hershel’s daughter, ain’t nothin’ else we could be.”

Confusion painted her brow as she looked back at him. What her father had to do with her relationship with him she had no idea.

“What do you mean?” she finally said.

“Nothin’,” he said, “just sayin’ nothin’s changed is all. Keep walkin’.”

She sighed, then turned around, missing the loose root right behind her.

She’d barely started to fall when an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back, up, pulling her into him.

“Whoa, you okay?” he asked, holding her for a second before pushing her back, letting her go, his hands falling to his sides.

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at her foot, “just got stuck in a root,” she added, before looking back up at him, his eyes fixed on hers, concern etched across his face.

“You gotta be more careful Greene,” he said, a hand reaching towards her, gently touching her back, pushing her slightly to keep walking.

“Sorry,” she replied.

“Don’t be sorry, just take care of yerself,” he said, following her along the trail.

And maybe Daryl would keep telling her that nothing had changed, but Beth couldn’t help but wonder if maybe everything had changed. Maybe nothing was the same at all.


	3. Don't Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl doesn't like to look. Because why look if you know you won't like what you see? Why not just look away and pretend.

It was just as the fighting stopped. As the gunfire ceased and the world could finally breath again. That’s when he thought he saw her.

 

A flick of blonde hair in the sunlight, running from the hospital, and that was all it took for Daryl to turn his back and look away, staring instead at his friend, his brother, in front of him.

 

_Don’t look._

 

This was what he did. Every time he saw blonde hair or fair skin or a slight girl. He turned away and he didn’t look. Because then, for a few short moments, a couple of breaths and a few heartbeats, he could tell himself it might be her.

 

So he stared at Rick, not daring to turn, living in this world where it might still be her behind him, and it might not. Knowing that as soon as he turned around one of those possibilities would shatter and the other would become reality. And reality never changed. Reality never shattered. And in reality, she was always still lost.

 

“Daryl,” Rick said, taking a step towards him, “turn around.”

 

But he couldn’t he never could.

 

_Don’t look. If you look, it won’t be her. Don’t look._

 

Then, just like that, just like before, a weight hit him, right in the back. Pale arms wrapped around him and delicate fingers fisted into his shirt and someone pushed themself close into him, so close he thought he might never be able to pry them away. That they might become inseparable. That whoever it was had molded themself to him. That this weight on his back was now a part of him he would never be able to shake.

 

“Is it?” he asked, looking at Rick. No. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t let himself think it was. Because reality was that she was lost, and reality didn’t change.

 

Rick nodded.

 

Her arms were stronger than he remembered, but not strong enough as his knees went weak and he fell to the ground. And he looked. And for the first time, he wasn’t disappointed with what he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I said I would work on the Math Tutor AU today, and I maybe still will, but I accidentally ended up writing reunion drabble instead. Sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> I put this on my tumblr a few weeks ago, but figured I might as well make a thing for drabbles on here too, being as I have so many unposted drabbles and headcanons on my laptop. So yeah, here's the first of hopefully quite a few short drabbles.


End file.
